A/N: I think my author's note in the last chapter might have been a bit misleading. I just meant that chapters 14 and 15 were sort of like one big chapter, but in two parts. As it is, I shifted things around a bit and extended it, so I guess you can ignore all of that anyway!

Chapter Fifteen: Tea and Sympathy

Bender pulled out of Claire's driveway and onto the street, glancing briefly to his left to check for oncoming traffic. Neither he nor Allison spoke as he directed them out of Claire's neighborhood and back onto the main road that went through town.

"Where did you want me to take you?" he asked, coming up to a stoplight.

"It doesn't matter. Just a supermarket or something."

Bender looked over at her. "You hungry?"

Allison shrugged and pulled her jacket tighter against her body. "Are you?"

"I'm fuckin' starving. Isn't there a McDonald's around here somewhere?"

Allison nodded. "By the big shoe store."

Bender frowned. "Over off Highland Park Boulevard?"

Allison shrugged again, crossing her arms over her chest.

Bender looked back at the road, and neither of them spoke during the three minutes that it took them to get to the fast food restaurant. He pulled into the parking lot, then behind the restaurant, stopping at the drive-in menu. "What do you want?" he asked her.

Allison looked at the menu, her face scrunching up comically as she strained to read the small print. After a few seconds she said, "Fries. And a milkshake."

"Chocolate or vanilla?"

"Vanilla."

Bender nodded and pulled up to the speaker box a few feet ahead. After a moment, a man's voice sounded from the speaker. "Hello, welcome to McDonald's. May I take your order?"

Bender ordered Allison's fries and milkshake and a hamburger combo for himself. When the man gave him the total and asked him to pull up to the window, he saw Allison moving around out of the corner of his eyes. He glanced over at her in time to see her remove a small wad of bills out of the front of her t-shirt.

"I thought women usually did that with toilet paper."

Allison looked up from her money and glared at him, then handed him a couple of bills. Bender accepted them without counting, smirking the whole time. "You keep anything else in there?" he asked.

Allison looked unimpressed. "You'll never find out."

Bender cocked an eyebrow. "Touché." He pulled up to the drive-in window and paid for their meals. Then he handed Allison her milkshake, put the bag of food between them, and pulled out onto the main road again.

Allison immediately pulled out her fries and started eating. After a couple of minutes she asked, "Is this your car?"

Bender pulled up to a stoplight and turned to face her. "No, it belongs to a friend."

"It smells like cigarette smoke."

"So, get out and walk."

Allison didn't respond to that, just popped open the lid to her milkshake and dipped one of the fries into the white, creamy dessert. Bender wrinkled his nose. "That's disgusting."

"Your car is disgusting," she retorted, kicking an empty fast food bag at her feet. She took another bite of French fry and looked back up at him. "Your friend's car," she said, correcting herself.

Bender scoffed and grabbed a handful of fries from the bag between them. "Since when are you the authority on cleanliness?"

Allison's mouth was too full for her to say anything, so she just stared at him, eyebrows lifted to show that she wasn't amused or impressed by his comments.

The light turned green, and Bender took his foot off the brake. "That's what I thought."

"So, I told the man. I said, 'I am not going to pay four hundred dollars for a couch with a broken leg. I don't care who it belonged to originally.' So, he lowered the price to three-fifty."

Claire nodded. "Wow, that's really--"

"Of course, I would have paid the full four hundred, but why may more if you don't have to, right?" The woman, Mrs. Norris or Morris--Claire couldn't remember which--smiled broadly, and Claire saw a piece of spinach poking out from between her front teeth.

"That's a great bargain," said Claire.

The woman nodded and pointed at Claire's plate, where a piece of spinach quiche was sitting untouched. "Did you want another one?"

Claire glanced down at the plate, her stomach turning over at the thought. She glanced up, trying not to look directly at the woman's teeth. "No, I'm fine. Thank you."

Mrs. Norris-Morris flashed Claire a quick smile and wandered back over to the dining room table, where the women had set up a miniature buffet of sorts. Quiches, chocolate cake, fresh fruit and cream cheese dip had been brought in and spread out across the table, and Claire's measly platter of lemon bars had been pushed off to the side, where it had gone all but untouched. Claire felt disappointed in herself that she hadn't thought to have Sandra prepare more food for her guests. These women were probably used to coming over to her house and being given the royal treatment by her mother, who was an excellent hostess. Catherine Standish never would have served lemon bars.

"So, when did you come in, sweetie?"

Claire looked up to see Caroline Hartford standing in front of her, a cup of hot tea in one hand. "I'm sorry?"

"I was just wondering when you came into town."

"Oh." Claire paused for a moment, trying to focus. "Um, on Saturday. In the afternoon sometime."

Mrs. Hartford nodded and took a sip of her tea. "Have you been busy with funeral plans? I remember when my father passed away last year. It seemed like there was always something else that needed to be done."

Claire took a deep breath and nodded. "That's how it feels sometimes."

Mrs. Hartford put a hand on Claire's arm and gave her a tender smile. "You just have to take it one moment at a time."

Claire forced a smile onto her face and took a sip from her own cup of tea. One moment at a time. How does that work exactly, when everything seems to be coming at me at once? But Claire didn't say that out loud. While she really just wanted everyone to go away and let her curl up in bed for a few days, she knew that she couldn't be rude to her mother's friends, especially women like Caroline Hartford, who had loved her mother and would do anything for Claire, her friend's only daughter.

"Now, where is your brother?" she asked, cutting into Claire's thoughts. "Is he here yet?"

Claire nodded. "He flew in on Sunday."

Mrs. Hartford nodded again. "And your father? I haven't seen him at all."

"Well, isn't that a surprise?"

Claire whirled around to see Irene standing behind her, a hand on one hip and an eyebrow cocked in challenge. "Calvin's usually so involved when it comes to these family events," she said sarcastically. "I'm surprised he'd miss this."

Claire turned back to Caroline Hartford and forced another smile. "Mrs. Hartford, this is my aunt, Irene Dandridge. Irene is my mother's sister."

Mrs. Hartford gave her a sympathetic look. "I am so sorry for your loss. I can't even imagine what it would be like to lose one of my sisters."

Irene smiled blandly. "Thank you. That's very kind."

If Mrs. Hartford noticed the ironic tone in Irene's voice, she didn't show it. "I knew Catherine from the D.A.R. She was such a kind woman, always looking for ways to help." She flashed Claire a smile. "I can see where Claire gets her hospitality skills."

"Yes, well, she certainly didn't get them from her father, did she?" Irene asked. Before the other woman could respond, Irene turned to Claire and put a hand on her niece's arm. "Claire, darling, where is the aspirin? I've got an awful headache, and all of this noise is doing nothing for it."

Claire managed a tight smile. "In the cabinet over the sink in the kitchen."

"Thank you." Then, without saying anything else to either of them, she walked out of the room and into the hallway leading to the kitchen.

Claire turned back to Mrs. Hartford. "That was my aunt Irene."

Mrs. Hartford nodded. "She seems very sweet."

Claire nodded. "She's from Florida," she said, as if this explained everything.

"Oh, really? It's so lovely down there."

Claire nodded again, imagining herself lounging on the sand on Cocoa Beach, the sun warm against her skin, the waves lapping at her feet. "Yes," Claire said dreamily. "Yes, it is."

Andy and Brian pulled into the funeral home parking lot at exactly ten o'clock. They'd been forced to pull over at a gas station to ask for directions since Brian had forgotten to ask Claire where the building was located, but after wandering around for a while they'd finally located it just a few miles from Claire's house, right next to the elementary school.

"Wow, this is nice," said Brian, stepping into the front hall.

Andy grunted, but didn't respond. He followed Brian through the front hall, which was sparse, but very elegant, and into the main lobby, where a woman in a dark blue suit sat at a large wooden desk, a phone pressed against one ear.

"I'll be sure to tell him, Mrs. Morgan. Thank you for calling." She hung up the phone, jotted a few notes on a message pad sitting in front of her, and looked up at the boys. "May I help you?" she asked.

Brian nodded and stepped up to her desk. "Uh, yeah, we're looking for Mr. Peterson."

The woman smiled apologetically. "I'm afraid he's meeting with someone right now. Can I take a message for him?"

Brian shook his head. "Um, no. I need to give this to him. It's from Claire Standish. Her mother is…" He trailed off, glancing back at Andy uncertainly. Andy didn't know what Brian was looking for him to say, so he didn't say anything.

"Yes, I know Miss Standish," said the receptionist. "I can give the papers to Mr. Peterson when he's finished, if you don't have time to wait. Otherwise, you're welcome to stay and wait for him. He shouldn't be much longer."

Brian glanced back at Andy again. Andy sighed. What was he going to do, say that they couldn't wait because he needed to get back to the house so that he could go back to bed? "We can wait," he said.

Brian nodded politely at the receptionist, who smiled and motioned to a group of couches on the other side of the lobby. "You can have a seat over there, and I'll let you know when he's available."

"Okay, thanks," said Brian. He and Andy walked across the room and sat down in a pair of overstuffed leather chairs. Andy settled back into his chair, closing his eyes and shifting around until he was comfortable. He wondered if he could go to sleep like this.

"So, uh, when are you going to see your parents?"

Andy opened his eyes and glanced over at Brian. "I don't know," he said after a moment's hesitation.

Brian nodded and looked down at the envelope in his hand. He sat there thoughtfully for a moment, running his thumb over the top of the envelope. Finally he said, "I'm having dinner with my parents tonight."

Andy just stared at him, wondering for the millionth time how he was supposed to respond. "Oh, really?" he asked, too tired to really care, but hoping he sounded at least a little bit sincere.

Brian nodded. He opened his mouth to say something else, then stopped and looked back down at his lap.

Andy paused uncomfortably, thinking that he should probably say something. "When is the last time you went home?" he asked.

Brian looked up. "Home? Uh, for Christmas. I stayed for about a month." He paused. "What about you?"

Andy sighed. "Same."

Brian nodded. "Are your parents bugging you to come over?"

Andy hesitated. "No, not really." Before Brian could ask him any more questions, he went on. "Yours?"

Brian nodded. "Yeah, my mom is, uh…" He paused thoughtfully, then shrugged. "I don't know. She wants to see me, I guess."

Andy nodded slowly. "You don't seem very excited," he observed.

"Oh." Brian thought about that for a moment, then nodded. "It's not that. I just hate having to answer all those questions, you know? Like, about my classes and stuff. I just feel like I'm back in high school or something."

Andy watched him closely for a moment. "Yeah," he said finally.

Brian didn't expand upon his situation, just yawned broadly and reached up to rub his eyes. When he pulled his hand away, Andy could see that they were red around the edges, as if he had been drinking or something.

Andy frowned. "You okay?"

Brian looked up. "Huh? Oh." He sat up straight in his chair and started tugging on the zipper of his jacket. "Yeah, I'm just kinda tired."

Andy let out a short, derisive chuckle. "Yeah, me, too."

Brian looked over at him, narrowing his eyes. "When did you go to sleep last night?"

Andy frowned. "I don't know. Ten, maybe." He paused. "Why?"

Brian shrugged. "Nothing. You've just been sleeping a lot since we got here."

"So?"

Noting the defensive tone in Andy's voice, Brian looked up. "So, I just noticed you've been sleeping a lot. That's it."

Andy opened his mouth to respond, then decided that it wasn't worth the energy. He settled back into his seat, wishing that Mr. Peterson would hurry the hell up and get out of his meeting so that he could get back to Claire's house and go back to bed.

Bender pulled into the Walker's Super Foods parking lot just as Allison was finishing her French fries. He found a spot near the front, and they sat in the car for a while so that Bender could finish his food. After about fifteen minutes, he wadded up the empty sack of food and tossed it into the back seat. He glanced over at her, and she nodded, signaling that she was ready to go inside. She took her milkshake with her, and Bender locked both of their doors for them.

When they got inside, Bender stopped and took a look around. "I'll be outside," he said. Allison nodded and watched him walk back outside, a pack of cigarettes already in hand as he disappeared through the sliding glass doors.

After a few minutes of wandering around, Allison found the cosmetics and hygiene section. She found her toothpaste and deodorant within a few minutes and started walking back to the registers to pay for them. But before she could get very far, a display of hair products caught her eye. She picked up a bottle of mousse, remembering how horribly her hair had looked in the mirror that morning after waking up. Maybe the mousse would help. Then again, so would a brush or comb. Maybe she should start with one of those.

Allison looked back at the display again, and a flash of red on the next aisle over caught her eye. It was an older woman dressed in a red blouse and black slacks. She was tall and thin, but not too skinny, and her dark brown hair had been pulled back with a set of tortoiseshell combs. She reached up to take a package of Tylenol from the top shelf, and Allison got a glimpse of her face.

It was her mother.

Without thinking, Allison shoved the deodorant, toothpaste and hair mousse into the pocket of her jacket and started walking towards the exit. Her heart was pounding so loudly that it practically drowned out the classical music pouring out of the store's speakers overhead. A security guard gave her a funny look as she passed, but she kept walking, out of the sliding glass doors and into the parking lot, where Bender was standing on the sidewalk smoking a cigarette.

"I'm ready," she said quickly, coming up behind him.

Bender looked back and frowned. "I thought you had to buy something."

Allison glanced behind her, where the security guard she'd passed inside was coming out of the store, eyes narrowed in her direction. She looked back at Bender. "I changed my mind," she said firmly.

Bender glanced behind her at the security guard, then looked back at her. He nodded and threw his half-used cigarette onto the ground, stubbing it out with the tip of his boot. They started walking out to the car.

Allison trailed behind him, matching his long strides. She yanked open the door and slid inside, the smell of French fries and cigarettes rushing into her nostrils. Bender started the car and put it in reverse.

Neither of them spoke as Bender pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street. After a couple of minutes Allison turned to look at him. "Thanks."

Bender just nodded curtly, never taking his eyes off the road.

A/N: Please review. Thank you. : )